3 Commentary

8. in Etruriam – References to “Etruria” by Livy–as well as by other Roman authors of antiquity–are steeped in potentially orientalizing, misogynistic, and even homophobic implications. On a scientific level, numerous studies have been conducted on the genetics of the Etruscans, with various researchers claiming either that the Etruscans came from a lineage of Anatolians (Achilli et. al., 2007), while others have asserted that the Etruscans are far more genetically similar to their Latin counterparts, with connections with Anatolia being sparse and difficult to prove (Ghirotto et al., 2013). Recent scholarship on the subject has pointed toward the latter understanding of Etruscans as an autochthonous (settled indigenous group of the region) people being more scientifically evident (Posth et. al., 2021).

Regardless of the scientific foundations for Etruria’s Anatolian origins, ancient Romans and other Mediterranean writers did view Etruria as a cultural “other.” Herodotus, one of the most famous writers on Etruria, located the Etruscan origins in Lydia, from which they migrated to Italy (Herodotus, Histories, 1.94). Virgil, as pointed out by Maria Bittarello, also employed othering language in describing the Etruscans (Virgil, Aeneid, 7, 9-10; 2009, pp.215-219). Even Livy references the Etruscans several times in his own works (Livy, 1.34.9, 5.1), each time painting the Etruscans religious rituals as “improper, and substantially ‘different’ from the Roman norm” (Bittarello, 2009, p. 218). In this passage of Livy’s, Livy’s reference to Etruria calls on those established understandings he previously laid out, which Bittarello describes as “far from being positive connotations,” with Livy portraying Etruscan religious rituals as “excessive, ‘morbid’, and even potentially dangerous” (2009, p. 218). Discussion of how this particular conception of Etruria factor into broader conversations related to Edward Said’s discussion of Orientalism are discussed by several scholars, though the validity of such connections are questioned by some like scholar Jessica Nowlin, while other authors like Ann Gunter and Bittarello reference oriental depictions of Etruria only in passing (Nowlin, 2021; Gunter, 2014; Bittarello, 2009).

19. stupra promiscua ingenuorum feminarumque – L’Hoir (1992) argues that Livy uses feminae to refer to aristocratic women. Livy’s mentioning of stuprum here – a crime that only applies to free men (ingenui) – is redundant, unless he is emphasizing that the crime has spread to the upper echelon of Roman society (96). In apposition, the “ignoble” nature of the Greek must be associated with their lower class status; Livy is saying, thus, the ills of the lower class were being spreaded to members of the Roman elites through the Bacchic rituals. L’Hoir further argues that this distinguishes Livy’s account of the Bacchanalia from the Senatus Consultum de Bacchanalibus – while the Senatus Consultum de Bacchanalibus uses the terminologies viri and mulieres to refer to all men and women, Livy’s viri and feminae, in the context of other passages in Ab Urbe Condita, might have class connotations that distinguish them from the average viri and mulieres (98).

23. quirititantium – This term is a participle of quirito, are, avi, atum “call for help.” Here, it is used substantively to mean “of those calling for help”–referring to cult initiates who are being gravely wronged. This usage is interesting because of a possible connection to Roman history. The Quirites were the inhabitants of the Sabine town of Curia. Early Romans were said to have captured and raped Sabine women, bearing Romans as descendents; Quirites also commonly meant “Roman.” As discussed in class, might the Latin word quirito reference the Quirites during that horrible act? While this etymology might seem compelling, Wiktionary (that noblest source) does not support it.

According to Wiktionary, linguists believe that quirito comes from a Proto-Indo-European term meaning “hiss, whistle, whisper,” rather than from Quirites. Meanwhile, according to Wiktionary, Quirites itself has uncertain origins–it might not come from Curia as legends claim. For another use of Quirites, see Juvenal’s Satura 3 – non possum ferre, Quirites, Graecam urbem (3.60). Here, Juvenal, writing as his friend Umbricius, laments Greeks and Syrians who have come to Rome and cheated Romans out of their jobs and houses. He uses the term to refer to distinctly Roman citizens, as opposed to the un-welcomed foreigners. Quirites, in that context, is used satirically to express xenophobic sentiments – a way of rallying Romans to protect their national identity from “foreignness”.

Perhaps then in this context, Livy could be saying that Roman identity (whatever that might mean) is being polluted by the Bacchic cult? This is especially relevant as Livy traces the origin of the cult earlier to a “ignoble” Greek (39.8.8). Juvenal, similarly, identifies the Greeks as infiltrators and corruptors of the Roman way of life.

30. dedita – perfect passive participle (transitive) of dedo, dedere- having been given over, adjective devoted/attached to, fond of; devoted/directed/given over (to) (activity), surrendered, consigned, under the sway of. There are a few ways to interpret the meaning of dedita as it is present here in the text. The adjective does part of the work in the narrative of explaining why Aebutius’s mother would act against him. In one reading she does this because she is so “devoted” to Aebutius’ new stepfather. In this reading she conspires against her son on account of her high regard for the stepfather. An alternative reading might suggest she is instead of “devoted” she is “under the sway of” or “consigned” to being under the stepfather’s control. This reading could suggest that she has no choice but to act against her son because the stepfather has real and extensive material power over her.

41. meretriculae munificentia – The term munificentia is derived from the munificus (“one who carries out duties of the office”). During the principate, in particular, it began to refer to the generosity of the princeps and other upper class members. Operating in conjunction with meretriculae, this phrase is generally used in reference to a patron/client relationship. These were well-established and valid forms of social and monetary sponsorship backed by Roman law. Such a phrase in this context implies a reversal of male and female roles as well as a reversal of class roles. While under Roman law a prostitute would be an infames, Livy affirms Hispala’s patronage towards Aebutius by comparing her to a well-respected patron.

61. ululātibus – The etymology of ululātus, cry, howl, wail or lamentation, likely originates from the Greek “ὀλολύζειν,” which is defined in Liddell and Scott’s Greek-English Lexicon (1961) as “women crying aloud to the gods in prayer or thanksgiving” and is associated with joyful crying and jubilation as opposed to lamenting.^[1] The word is an onomatopoeia for the howling of wolves, implying an animal-like quality of the participants in the Bacchic rites. Johannes Scapula’s sixteenth-century Lexicon Graeco-Latinum defines ululatus as translated from the greek word “Ὀλολυγών” as “et peculiariter is quem mares ranae edunt, cum foeminas ad coitum vocant” (I. 1816: “ and particularly that which male frogs emit when they call the females to coitus”). In Greek, Ὀλολυγών is for men, whereas ὀλολύζειν is for women. However, in Latin this distinction does not seem to exist and ululātus seems to belong to the realm of female outcry.

77. gravem – accusative, feminine, singular form of the third declension adjective gravis – is -e (modifying feminam). Working Definition: “gravis , e, adj. Sanscr. gurus (root gar-); Gr. βαρύς, heavy; gravis, for gar-uis; cf. also Brutus. With respect to weight, I.heavy, weighty, ponderous, burdensome; or pass., loaded, laden, burdened (opp. levis, light; in most of its significations corresp. to the Gr. βαρύς; cf. onerosus, onerarius).” (Lewis, 1879)

The greek cognate of gravis, βαρύς, is cited in Liddell and Scott’s as defining a troublesome person, or soldiers who are heavy- armed. Most of the connotations of this descriptor seem to refer to negative or neutral characteristics in the Greek, but all allude to significance. Liddell, Henry George, Henry Stuart Jones, and Robert Scott. A Greek-English Lexicon. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 2006.

To explore further the use of gravis to describe either a Roman woman’s character or figure, we turned to examples from Roman authors Juvenal and Propertius. Juvenal, in describing a virago (a woman characterized by manly traits) who is prone to whipping people and animals, uses the phrase gravis occursu, taeterrima vultu (a terror look at, terrible to look at, 6.418). Commenting on this use of gravis, Barbara K. Gold claims that, at least in the work of Juvenal, we never find “a beautiful female body that covers a female soul” (Gold, 1998). While in this instance, gravis is attacking the virago’s appearance, even in the cases of gorgeous women, Juvenal refuses to give high praise to their character. In the work of Propertius, we see gravis in Elegy 2.9 not directly describing a woman, but instead as a form of poetic discourse “linked by the speaker to the subject of his verse – the elegaic mistress” (Lang, 2005).

We have yet to make conclusions as to how similar the connotations are for gravis in Livy’s work, but hope to have established some context for Roman opinions towards women and their character being described with a word of such masculine virtue, such weight, such burden. We wonder if, within the extremely patriarchal society Livy was immersed in as he wrote about the Bacchanalia, conceptualizing a feminam as gravem could have been an entirely positive choice. Our wonderful and highly esteemed professor, Jody Valentine, wonders “whether this is meant to contrast Sulpicia and Aebutia from Hispala, or to give Hispala some share in Sulpicia’s gravitas.” As a class, we find her assessment insightful.

84. obcenis – It is interesting that the word obcenis here is most easily translated as obscene, but latin definitions are much more closely tied explicitly to sex than the english defintion word imply. obscenus, obsceni, m., N, sexual pervert; foul-mouthed person; There is that definition that is more related to a person. An obscene act is then made by a person who is inherently obscene. There is also the more common adjectival definition is obscenus, obscena -um, obscenior -or -us, obscenissimus -a -um, ADJ, repulsive, detestable; foul; indecent, obscene, lewd; (sexual/excretory things) inauspicious/unpropitious; ill-omened/boding ill; filthy, polluted, disgusting; This word reveals part of Roman norms around sex. It shows that they tie explicitly sex and sexual organs to dirtiness and something to be detested. Sex inherently has a moral value in Roman society and that is revealed in the many meanings of this word.

92. interiorem partem aedium – The consul Postumius brings Hispala into the “interior part of the house,” meaning she is allowed past the atrium. The standard Roman domus had an inner and outer part of the house, a public part (pars urbana), and private part (as shown in Figure 1). The fact that Hispala is led into the private part of the house is significant, because Roman men tended to take clients and do other business only in the atrium. Although it is not made clear if the consul did so in order to conceal the courtesan or to pay her special attention, this was definitely not standard practice.

94. stimulae – Semele, the mortal woman who gave birth to Dionysus after Zeus impregnated her, is an important female figure in the story of the Bacchanalia. Her grove—here called the luco Stimulae—was located on the Aventine Hill of Rome near Ostia. Semele’s cult, according to (Littlewood, 2006, p. 159; Walker, 1996, p. 902). The name Semele—often written as Stimula in Latin—has debated origins, with some scholars intent on its Thraco-Phrygian origins while others assert that Semele has distinctly “not-Greek” roots (Kerenyi, 1976, p. 107; Seltman, 1956; Burkert, 1985, p.163). These contested linguistic features of Semele indicate a clearly non-Greco-Roman origin for the deity, potentially implicating the goddess in Orientalist views. In addition, the Etruscan goddess Semla—the Etruscan counterpart to Semele—may have been well known as a deity associated with the Bacchic cult of Etruria, with one Etruscan mirror from the 4th century BCE depicting Semla.

118-123. The Roman calendar system uses “inclusive counting,” in which an interval of N days is indexed from day 1, …, day N. For example, moving backward in time, March 15 was the Ides, March 14 was “the day before the Ides,” and March 13 was “the third day before the Ides”. In other words, March 15 was day 1, March 14 was day 2, and March 13 was day 3.

This system might seem unintuitive to English speakers. In English, time intervals are counted exclusively; an interval of N days is indexed as day 0, …, day N-1. An English speaker would call March 13 “two days before the Ides” and March 15 “zero days before the Ides.” So as soon as Livy brings up time, you might hear alarm bells: when Livy wrote of three days, how many did he really mean?

Fortunately for us, he meant three. Livy was talking about three different days, but not an interval of three days, so indexing is irrelevant here. But even if it were, how many days there are and how we label those days are two separate questions. Whether you index N days inclusively (day 1, …, day N) or exclusively (day 0, …, day N-1), there are still N days.

Indexing still causes confusion to this day. General-use programming languages, such as Python or C++, often index lists from 0. This convention is standard in computer science. Scientifically oriented languages, such as R or MATLAB, often index from 1 because that is the convention mathematicians and engineers are used to. Indexing mistakes in programming are so common that they have a name: “off-by-one errors.” But whether you start at 0 or 1, everyone agrees a set of N elements contains N elements.

130-131. vivum sulpur cum calce insit – Translating to “live sulfur mixed with calcium,” this phrase is a peculiar moment in Livy’s writing in which a scientific fact is expressed so explicitly. At the time in ancient Rome, the fluid used for torches was typically a mixture of sulfur and lime (sulfur and calcium hydroxide) , which is a calcium-containing material. The sulfur burns freely, as Livy describes in his use of the term vivum, which could alternatively be translated as “flammable.” When combined with the calce (which is not flammable), the torch flames take on a special property, in which they won’t be extinguished if briefly immersed in water. Bacchanal matrons, then, could perform this act as a part of their rituals, as long as it was done swiftly. This scientific abnormality (although an understood and expected characteristic now) contributed to the larger sense of frenzy and foreignness in the sacred rites.

131. raptos –  Raptos is the perfect passive participle of rapio, rapere, rapui, raptus which means to snatch off, to carry off or to abduct. It is the same word used in the Rape of the Sabine Women (Sabīnae Raptae), also recounted by Livy in Ad urbe condita. Raptos, though not always necessarily sexual, is the word used for rape, kidnapping, and abduction— usually inflicted upon women. It is notable here that men are the victims of raptos by the gods, further subverting the assumed gender norms of the time. But, this is only supposedly according to the Bacchanals’ account – dici, “it was said,” works to discredit the claim as a Bacchanalian fabrication. Was using raptos a deliberate choice by Livy? He could have used a less historically charged word such a tollō or abductō which would not have necessarily carried the sexual connotation from its historic use in the Sabīnae Raptae.

134. alterum iam prope populum esse – With this short phrase, Livy introduces an entirely new aspect to his understanding of the Bacchic rites: their dangerous disposition as an entity separate from Roman authority. Because of the Roman Republic’s status as a veritable “religious marketplace”–as posited by Rodney Stark–traditionally, religions would compete for faithful “followers and financial support,” and exclusivist religious sects commingled with more expansive faiths (Stark, 2006, p. 4). However, vicious outbreaks of religious violence in the form of persecution were still characteristic of this Roman period (Stark, 2006: p. 4). The Bacchic cult was not the only pagan “cult” struck by sanctions in an attempt to curtail the spread of certain faiths among the Roman people; other cults, such as the Cybelene, Mithraic, and Isiac, faced similar restrictions to their practices, though they did not face quite the same extreme persecution that the Bacchanalia in Rome faced (Stark, 2006: pp. 17-21). The chief commonality between these groups? Their “high levels of commitment to closely knit religious congregations,” akin to the creation of a foreign nation within the bounds of Rome (Stark, 2006, p. 26). Returning to the Bacchic cult specifically, Beard, North, and Price assert that the Senate perceived the high commitment of Roman people to the cult as a threat in need of destruction (1998: p. 95). In fact, J.H.W.G. Liebeschuetz notes that “It is not an accident that the great family which dominated a society devoted to the mysteries of Bacchus in Campania was of Greek origin, and that the great majority of the members were Greeks from Greece or Asia Minor” (Liebeschuetz, 1979: p. 215-216). According to Erich Gruen, disparities in treatment of the Bacchic cult in comparison with other similar cults owed to the fact that “Bacchic revels crossed the line of Roman endurance; the senate resorted to persecution of practices inimical to their traditions and threatening state supervision of worship” (Gruen, 2021: p. 172). Ultimately, control of ritual practice in the Republic took precedent in this case, resulting in an unbearably heavy crackdown on Bacchanal practices. Through an understanding of the ingrained fear the Senate held for these cults prone to destabilizing Roman authority through their powerful communities, the later persecutorial language in Livy’s text becomes legible in its context.

158. aedilibus curulibus – the aedile (from aedes, aedis, f. = room, household, temple) was a Roman official historically charged with overseeing grain and water supply, maintaining city roads, and providing citizens with games and festivals. Initially, there were only the aediles plebis (as mentioned in line 160), elected annually by the Council of Plebs. It is said that these aediles were also responsible for supervising the temples and plebeian cults of Ceres and Diana. (One might consider this ironic since, in Livy’s text, they are ordered to assist in the prevention of any Bacchanal rites.) However, starting in 367 BCE, two aediles curules were also elected from the patrician class by the centuriate assembly and would eventually become part of the cursus honorum (the sequential order of positions aspiring politicians needed to hold). The roles of the curule aediles and plebeian aediles did not vary that much. In fact, later on, the office of the aediles curules became available to plebeians so the positions were no longer distinguished by rank. Interestingly enough, the position of aedile was often seen as one step in the “Path of Honors,” the path to becoming consul. An impressive aedile could become a praetor, the final position before being able to obtain the name of a consul. Reading the roles in which the aediles curules and the aediles plebis were assigned by the consuls then (tracking down the priests of the Bacchanals and making sure no other rites were held, respectively), one could understand the pressure felt by the officials to fulfill these duties. If they failed to carry them out properly, their future in the “Path of Honors” would be permanently lost.

177. mortem sibi consciverunt – The Thesaurus Linguae Latinae identifies the first use of conscisco in its connotation as voluntaria morte obire in Cicero’s In Verrem (369.4). It is used 11 times by Livy. The canonical Latin euphemism for killing oneself is mortem sibi consciscere “to inflict death upon oneself.” Contrast this with the canonical English euphemism: “to commit suicide.” The difference in these two phrases is worth noting. The word “suicide” sure looks like it came from Classical Latin. Classical Latin did not shy away from murderous -cida words: consider parricida or fratricida. Yet the Romans did not use the word suicida. The Romans did not avoid the word as taboo; the word did not even exist. Lewis and Short do not list suicida. Indeed, according to Wiktionary, the analogous -cida word, suicidium, was first attested in the 1600s. Why might the Romans avoid this word? Did it feel too cold and impersonal? That explanation seems unsatisfying–again, they did not shy away from other -cida terms. Was there perhaps no need, as the turn of phrase mortem sibi consciscere was already so well ingrained that they felt no need for another term? Did the word simply not occur to any classical Romans?

181. conditoresque – There has been some scholarly debate over how to render conditores into English. Adam (1994), echoing the argument of Festugiere (1954), claims that it should be translated as “founder” because the cult recreates the θίασος by initiation of new members. Briscoe (2007) disagrees, and instead argues for the rendering of conditores as “organizers” only. He cites evidence from Cicero’s Pro Cluentio – ipse conditor totius (71.15), used as example in the Thesaurus Linguae Latinae of conditor as administrator (147.23). However, this seems like a cherry-picked interpretation; earlier in the TLL, conditor is glossed as constitutor (connotations of founding/constituting); here the TLL directly cites Livy 39.17.7 as an usage example (146.63). It would seem clear, from this interpretation, that conditores are not mere “organizers” as Briscoe would suggest. This is further supported by Lewis and Short, which uses Livy 39.17.7 as an example of conditor meaning “maker, builder, framer, establisher.” Interestingly, Lewis and Short lists the aforementioned usage in Cicero’s Pro Cluentio as an example for a different definition of conditor as “writer, author” employed by Cicero in a satirical manner.

198. animadverterent – Third Person Plural, Imperfect Active Subjunctive of animadverto, animadvertere, animadverti, animadversus
William Whitaker’s Definition: pay attention to, attend to; notice, observe; judge, estimate; punish (in+ACC)
Etymology: In fact means turn the mind to. Interesting that the Romans viewed punishment as akin to changing how someone thinks. Suggests that punishment was meant to change behavior. Most likely not just of the person being punished but people witnessing the punishment as well.
https://www.etymonline.com/word/animadvert#:~:text=animadvert%20(v.),to%22%20(see%20advertise).

208. To fully understand the context of these lines, we suggest referring back to 186 BC in the Senatus Consultum de Bacchanalibus lines 11-20 and comparing Livy’s description of these procedures to ones preserved on the bronze tablet (discovered in Tiriolo (Calabria) in 1640 CE). Having translated both texts, we find the similarities striking – and extremely specific. References in the Livy to the SCB include restrictions on a “common purse” (pecuniam communem, line 11) and language concerning the limit of 5 men (“homines plus quinque universi”). The restrictions seemed to be targeted at limiting the political power of the Bacchic cult by limiting both their access to funds through the shared purse and access to male leadership. Both things were avenues to political power in Rome.